


Remember

by ArcanaMajor



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Head trauma, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcanaMajor/pseuds/ArcanaMajor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler doesn't realize how much of a 'thing' he and Fandango actually are until the other man gets hit in the head and amnesia makes him forget everything he and Tyler are to each other. Which was supposed to be 'nothing', so then why does it feel so strange when Fandango doesn't treat him the way he used to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember

Hospitals are never going to be anyone’s favourite place to be, especially for wrestlers, but sitting in a pristine hall messing with his phone while his partner is being operated on is the absolute worst. He’s taken two awful pictures of a nearby potted plant – dying a slow and painful death, looking at how dry its soil is – and not even writing scathing comments underneath them would make him feel better. He’s stuck. Stuck in an uncomfortable chair while behind closed doors, somewhere in this terrible place, Fandango is getting his head examined. Tyler wished he could feel comfortable making jokes about that.

He can’t, though, because he’d seen the sickening snap with which the other man’s head had hit the turnbuckle. He’d seen the slump of his body as it tumbled down towards the floor, arms outstretched weirdly as he landed. He’d seen the horrified expressions on fans’ faces as he raced towards his fallen friend, slipping and sliding as he ended on his knees next to him.

He’d hovered, because there was no movement and blood had sluggishly run down a tanned neck, but he knew not to touch. Making it worse would haunt him forever, so he balled his fists against the mats below him and just stared at the closed eyes and the awkward bend in the man’s neck. Honed in on the breaths leaving his immobile body. He just focused, as behind him the referee called for assistance and hurried feet pounded towards them. 

People had carefully carried Fandango out on a stretcher and he’d followed, because what else could he do? Now, occasionally perking up when a doctor walks past, he still has no idea.

“Mister Breeze?”

A young nurse is standing in the hallway and she smiles gently. His heartbeat triples, even if he doubts she’d look that calm and collected if she’d have to tell him his friend had died. Stuffing his phone back in its customary pocket, he stands up.

“Is he okay?” he croaks, feeling out of place as she nods and motions him to follow her. They walk slowly – too slowly and Tyler wants to push her forward, but he _can’t_ – and she explains in soft tones that all is well except for quite a serious bump on the man’s head and some unforeseen consequences. 

“Amnesia?!”

“It should go away eventually,” the nurse hurries to add. “It generally takes a couple of weeks. Some never recover, of course, but that’s rare and I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Her saying that doesn’t help the worrying, but being able to look at Fandango’s body as they stop in front of his room does. It lessens slightly, seeing him there, even if his eyes are closed and the top half of his head is covered in white.

“His family will be by to pick him up.” The nurse is kind. Tyler wonders if she’d be so kind if she knew what they did for a living and why Fandango’s head is now all messed up. “You’re allowed to stay with him for a bit, though, if you want to wait for them. It shouldn’t be long.”

Her assumptions about their relationship don’t horrify him as much as they probably should, but then he’s tired and his friend just brained himself on the ring post. He’s feeling very generous and his muscles ache from how tight he’s been strung. He glances at the bed and at the familiar features of Fandango, handsome even through several layers of bandages. They’re separated by mere glass, but the idea of running into the guy’s family, who probably know nothing about him, fills him with dread. A bigger barrier than a wall and some window panes.

“That’s alright.” He crosses his arms, then stares some more. The nurse remains patient. “I’ll just… I’m going to go. Just needed to know he’s fine.”

By the time he’s outside, he feels like an idiot for even sitting there for so long. Like a damned fool who didn’t even realize that of course Fandango had family who’d come for him. What would he need Tyler Breeze for?

Grabbing a cab, he is at least some money lighter by the time he reaches his hotel. His worries, though, remain as heavy as ever.

 

~

 

Tyler Breeze isn’t used to sleepless nights. His body goes through so much that he usually falls asleep whenever he allows it to, especially because he knows how important rest is to a face as nice as his. So the tossing and turning every night is new. It takes him some hours and some days to finally fall asleep and not remember the vision of a head cracking open its skull on solid iron. 

Come morning, he doesn’t feel much better. Glancing at his phone, it’s remarkably free of clutter every time. One or two concerned messages – one from Xavier, one from the company – and one missed phone call. Nothing much. Usually there’s more.

Usually there’s at least one ’ _good morning sunshine_ ’ from Fandango, he realizes. Maybe a ’ _you look terrible_ ’, if they’re sharing a room and the man can laugh at Tyler’s reaction. Sometimes a rose emoji, because Fandango is an asshole who pretends he’s fucking Fabio.

Looking at nothing is strange.

That feeling doesn’t evaporate as the days pass, even when matches and interviews and computer games require his full attention. His phone has always been glued to his hand, but lately it’s been a habit to check, reply to something outrageous Fandango sent him, and then complain to Xavier about it afterwards. The complete radio silence is disconcerting.

’ _You look good in that_.’ says the last one, way back when Tyler had stolen a sweatshirt and traipsed around the house in it. He’d been a tease and had enjoyed it, because Fandango had been lounging in bed looking at him, beautiful body full on display. It had been a fun night.

Tonight isn’t going to be similar, even if he accepts Xavier’s invitation and joins some of their colleagues as they watch sports. It’s loud, it’s obnoxious, and he misses a familiar, annoying warmth at his side.

When his phone rings and _that name_ flashes on the screen, he jumps up immediately.

He picks up, of course, and waves the others away when they crowd around him. It feels like relief that the man still knows to call him. He swallows away quite a few things and instead focuses on sounding happy to hear from him.

“Fandango! Hey!” He must sound like a lunatic, because Xavier is judging him from across the room. Tyler glares and turns resolutely. “How are you feeling?”

The response from the other end is tinny, but clear enough. A quick greeting, assurances that he’s fine and his family are keeping an eye on him, and then uncertainty. Tyler can almost feel that there’s something the other man wants to ask. His hands grip the phone tighter. Has something happened?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, when the question doesn’t come. “If you’re just going to mouth breathe at me, I might as well hang up.”

It feels as a victory when he hears an undignified snort on the other end of the line. That feeling dissipates when Fandango clears his throat. That’s usually the sign of serious business and it’s something Tyler categorically avoids.

“My folks found some of your stuff at my place.” Fandango sounds unsure. “In the closet, even. I was just wondering…”

Tyler closes his eyes, brow knitting together. “Yeah?”

“I… I send you stuff a lot. Like texts and emails. My sent box is full of them. I have this godawful vase in my living room with your name on it and it just doesn’t make any sense. Is that…is that normal?”

“For you?” Tyler smirks. “Totally.”

Fandango doesn’t seem to hear, because there’s still that tone to his voice. Like he’s flabbergasted and disturbed all at once. It hurts a bit, because Tyler knows he’s not boyfriend material, but this kind of disbelief is a bit much.

“Tyler, some of the things I send you… Some of the things I say. They-”

“That’s normal,” Tyler says, interrupting a train of thought he’s not sure he wants Fandango to finish. “You joke around a lot. It’s completely fine.”

“ _Tyler_.” The other man seems frustrated now. “What are we? _Tell me_.”

The younger man rubs his forehead. As if it’s that easy to explain.

“We fuck,” he settles on. “We fuck and you send me outrageous texts and then I turn you down. That’s what we are.”

It’s not even half of it, but Tyler doesn’t know how to explain that until recently he considered Fandango’s flirty ways irritating at best. Until he no longer had that constant in his life and realized it was so much more than something to rage at.

“We fuck,” comes the incredulous reaction.

“Yeah.” 

A dial tone reaches his ears after that and Tyler flinches. Around him people stare at him. He doesn’t blame them. Xavier finds his way towards him soon enough, his usual happy-go-lucky expression exchanged for one that looks a lot more judgemental. Mixed with some worry, maybe. While Tyler is still busy staring at his phone, his friend nudges his arm. He doesn’t even bother looking up.

“You could just tell him.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “There is nothing to tell.”

“He’s been dating you for months now. Just because you never bothered to get your head out of your ass and accepted you liked it doesn’t mean you have to be an idiot about it now. He deserves to know. You deserve that.”

“We haven’t been dating,” Tyler hisses. “We’ve been fucking. Screwing around. _I don’t date_.”

“As far as he’s concerned he’s been dating you and you know it. He’s just been waiting for you to wise up.”

“I’m not going to tell him we’ve been dating when that’s not what we’ve been doing. He’s confused enough already. I can’t do that to him.”

Xavier sighs. “You’re an idiot.”

Tyler supposes he is.

 

~

 

After that awkward conversation he doesn’t hear or see anything from Fandango for two whole weeks. He knows the man is fine, because he’s posted on twitter twice to keep his fans informed, but other than that Tyler knows nothing. It makes him restless, because this isn’t something he’s used to. Even worse, they’re in the man’s home town but he has no real reason to visit. They just fuck, after all.

Xavier jokes he’s horny and that’s why he’s in such a bad mood, but he hasn’t so much as looked at his dick since Fandango got injured and that in itself sets him on edge. The next RAW he fields suggestive questions from fans, only to be met by Fandango leaning against the wall next to his hotel room. He looks good for someone who was half-dead just some weeks ago.

White gauze over his eye and up into his hairline betrays he’s not completely healed yet – and of course he isn’t – but he doesn’t look pale any more and that patented smirk is back. Tyler chances a smile, then gets one in return.

“Didn’t expect you here.” He opens the door and leads Fandango in. Casually he sorts through some mail he’d left that morning. He usually leaves stuff like that for home, but he needs something to do because his fingers itch to touch the man’s perfect face. Make sure he’s real.

“I’ve been restless.” Fandango sits down on the bed, unbuttons some of the buttons on his shirt. “Then I heard you were in town. Figured I’d visit.”

Tyler’s own hands still and his eyes shoot up. Fandango’s smirk seems a bit fake, but the intention was there.

“You’re horny,” Tyler states, fingers pulling tight around the paper in his hand. “We don’t speak for two weeks and then you suddenly show up at my hotel room because you’re _horny_?”

Fandango seems confused. His handsome face betrays everything, especially to Tyler’s skilled eyes, and his voice betrays even more. It stutters out the words, wrapped in surprise and quite a bit of bewilderment. 

“RAW was here and I thought… I don’t know, man, I felt lonely and there’s been this itch under my skin. It’s like these memories that I _know_ are there are trying to claw their way out, but I don’t know how to make them and I just needed a distraction. I thought…” His eyes go a bit colder then. “This is what we _do_ , isn’t it?”

And the thing is, he’s right. Tyler stares at him and he doesn’t know what else to say, because the man is completely right. They fucked and that was that. He’s never allowed it to go any further, even if Fandango sometimes kissed him when he left or smiled at him when he thought he wasn’t looking. He’s always made it clear. He isn’t boyfriend material and Fandango eventually accepted that. Tyler had thought they _both_ had. Even after they’d had a brutal match at a house show once and Fandango had spent most of the night making it up to him. With more affection than Tyler had known how to handle.

Yet now here he is, feeling like Fandango is mocking him. Like all the affection he used to show him – the affection Tyler slapped him for, berated him for – wasn’t real because now he no longer remembers. Fandango is asking for the no string attached sex Tyler had always been demanding. So why…

“You’re right.” He lets the paper fall out of his hand and towards the floor. It ends up slipping underneath the small desk that stands against the wall. “I’m sorry, it’s just been weird, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Fandango mutters. 

Tyler closes the blinds with shaking hands. He’s tired and he had a gruelling match with Ambrose earlier, but he also hasn’t touched Fandango in weeks and there’s a stark white reminder on the man’s head that tells Tyler he shouldn’t be choosey right now. So he chooses to undress quickly under a very watchful eye.

The ‘thank you’ he gets several hours later is almost worth the ache in his heart, because even the sex wasn’t quite the same. 

 

~

 

It’s in a hotel room not far from where Fandango lives, that they meet again. Fandango’s arrival is a surprise and they make awkward small-talk for a while, but the tense slant of his shoulders and the lines around his eyes say enough.

“I still don’t remember,” Fandango snarls bitterly, when they cease pretending like they’re comfortable around each other. “I should remember by now, but I remember absolutely nothing. Just some wisps of conversations and flashes of some meaningless match with you at a house show somewhere. It’s driving me crazy.”

Tyler listens and nods where necessary. He gets it. Frustration he understands. Powerlessness he can relate to. So when Fandango drops the pretence and grabs for him, he goes along willingly. He shuts down the part of him that wants to complain, wants to beg for some of that easy friendship that they used to have, and he tilts his head back as Fandango sucks angry bruises into his skin. 

When they fuck, he ignores how it’s too rough and too soon, because this he can give the man. Nothing he does can return the memories he wants, but he can provide relief. He’s always been good at that. So he holds on, imagines whispers that used to annoy him, and when they’re done and he watches the light dance over the other man’s heaving chest, he pretends he feels better about himself. Even if things don’t go back to the way they were, he seems to have some part in Fandango’s life again. He brings some sort of solace. He’ll settle for that.

When it happens again some days later and he rubs his knees raw, he still considers it worth it. At least Fandango seems calmer when he leaves.

 

~

 

It all comes crashing down another week – and one quick hook up at a Smackdown – later. He’s trying to sleep through the incessant drilling of a nearby construction place, but he can’t. Sleeping well has been a luxury he’s had to forgo. Maybe the good sex and the presence of another person next to him have somehow imprinted on his skin and now he can’t live without. Either way, he’s had an awful night of taping, has managed to hurt his ankle, and he is now lying on his bed listening to the dull thud of a power drill.

Heavy pounding on his door just adds to the joy of it all, really.

When Tyler opens the door to familiar, angry eyes he’s about ready to crumple to the floor and just give up. His ankle throbs, his head hurts, and right in front of him Fandango looks furious, as if he’s going to break Tyler’s heart into pieces as well. As if it needed further destruction.

“I told you to call me,” Fandango snaps as he barges into the room. Tyler wonders how he got here, considering their places are way too far apart for an easy commute. 

He’s tired, so just lets the words fly. “Yeah, well, I’m not your fucking dog. I don’t listen to you.”

“That’s for sure. If you did you would take better care of yourself.” Fandango’s voice is shaking, as are his clenched fists. “Why the fuck would you let me do that.”

“What?” Tyler asks, weakly. 

“Why would you allow me to treat you like…like some cheap fuck. Like I could just let out my frustration on you. You are better than that. You are _more_ than that.”

Tyler sighs, eyes stinging just a bit and he hates himself for it. He’s not sure what all this means. Did Xavier call him? Did Summer finally break her silence? Did Fandango _remember_?

“It seemed like you needed it.” He shrugs. “I could give you that. It’s fine.”

“It is _not_ fine. Jesus, Tyler.”

He just shrugs again, but his shoulders feel heavy. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Fandango is in front of him in seconds. “How about 'sorry for letting all of this amnesia bullshit turn you into a shitty person’. How about that. Or how about 'goddamn you’re a bad lay without all your memories’, because god knows it must have been awful now that I have past performances to take into account.”

“You remember,” Tyler breathes. He remembers and he came here. Probably paid way too much for a cab, or drove some car he wasn’t allowed to drive. Has probably done something stupid because he _remembers_.

Fandango is still angry. “Yeah, _I fucking remember_. It was a rush, I’ve got to tell you. And my first instinct was to call you, but of course your fucking martyr ass wasn’t picking up my calls!”

“Well screw me for not wanting to be your whore on speed dial.”

Hands grab for him before he’s even fully finished the sentence. They tangle in his hair as he’s pulled close and lips meet his. There’s frustration in the kiss, but it’s also more than he’s had for quite a while and he’s missed it. Has missed this. Fandango loves kissing him more than Tyler sometimes accepts and now he’s standing here feeling his muscles turn to liquid because of it. And it’s so cliché and it’s so not them, but it could have been if he’d not been such an idiot.

“How dare you. You are not that. You were never that.” Fandango moves to his neck, bathes him in kisses as he mouths words in his ear. “You are such a fucking idiot if you believed that. I’ve been sending you love declarations from the moment we first tagged together.” 

“I didn’t want them,” Tyler whines, burying his head against the bigger man’s neck and letting arms envelop him. “I didn’t.”

“So what. You’re a spoiled brat, of course you didn’t want something freely given. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to give it to you.” 

The words are growled into his ear and Tyler shakes. Fandango’s lips continue drawing patterns on his skin and eventually stop at the blond’s hairline, just staying there. They’re pressed together and Tyler swears Fandango must hear how loud his heart is pounding. It’s ridiculous. _He’s_ ridiculous.

“What are we?” the other man sounds breathless, but the question is audible enough. Tyler straightens and looks him dead in the eye. There’s clarity there, as if the other man already knows the answer, and it’s a relief.

“Something,” he murmurs. “If you want it to be.”

Fandango smiles and it’s brilliant to see after the hesitant looks of the last few weeks. 

“Good. You know, I think I might have missed you.”

Tyler pushes his hand through his hair awkwardly, but is only met with fondness. He turns his head away, swallowing. This kind of thing really isn’t for him. He finds the words anyway.

“Yeah, I might have missed you as well.” His face feels red hot and he knows he’s blushing. He scowls and turns away further.

“You know, because of the sex,” he adds quickly. “It wasn’t as good when you’d forgotten everything. I was worried I’d have to teach you all over again.”

The older man laughs and then nods, a motion Tyler can just see from the corner of his eye. It’s not like he’s still trying to gauge the man’s reactions, or like he’s scared to look away and lose him again. He just notices. 

“I know,” Fandango replies, breath gentle against his skin. Tyler shivers, feels the other man nose at the spot behind his ear. It’s careful and not quite normal for them, but at the knowledge that Fandango remembers, remembers _them_ , he feels the remaining tension leave his body. He doesn’t even say anything when a hand cups his face and fingers hold him gently. He just closes his eyes and breathes.


End file.
